EricMBloggie

As my radio friends on 100.3 The Beat would say, “Big Ups” to Bike Line bike shop in Philly.  I took my bike in for a tune-up the other day, and wasn’t happy with how the brakes were braking.  I told them about it, and the guy insisted I bring it in, so they could fix it for free.

The place is on 10th and Arch in Chinatown, right near “Hour Lab Pretty Picture Photo,” the photo processing place with the one of the worst designed signs in the city.

This is an almost finished animation of an atrium in one of the university projects at work.

(In order to understand why this post matters, you’ll have to read my previous entry, “The Dash for the 12 Bus.”)

It was my turn for Breakfast Friday at work this morning.  And, boy, was I late.  On my way from my house to South Square, I dashed in front of a stopped bus.  I caught eyes with the bus driver:  Pink hair, big smile.  I stopped.  She LAAAUUUGHED and so I did.

“YOU STILL RUNNIN’!!”

I waved goodbye and sped off.

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I loved it.

Better than the hype.

I left the house with at least ten minutes until the bus came; checked my hair in the neighbor’s dark windows, whistled a tune– VRRRRRROOM!  If the #12 bus had a flux capacitor, it would have gone back through time.  The thing was going fast.  “Really?”  I said to anyone who was around.  I took off in a half-hearted sprint, but the next light was green.  The #12 was gone. “Fuck.” I walked towards Chestnut.  As I crossed the street in front of ‘Omega Pizza,’ someone called out, “You tryin’ to catch that 12 bus?”

The car was stopped in front of the intersection.  The guy waved me in, “Come on, we can still catch it.”  Thoughts of all the terrible things that happen to people in movies when they get in strangers’ cars raced through my head.  But he looked nice enough.  I got in, and the chase was on.  “I used to live at 24th and Grey’s Ferry.  That happened to me all the time.”  We exchanged pleasantries and nose laughs.  It didn’t take much to catch up to the bus.  I saw my chance.  We shook hands, and I opened the door– the bus drove off again.  I got back in really quickly, and he caught up once again, “If this light is red, I can catch it.”  It was.  “See ya!”  I threw open the door.  The light turned green.

I felt my spikes dig into the track, the bang of the slamming door a starter’s pistol.  I burst out of the blocks, a track-star reborn.  The bus accelerated, but so did I.  Reaching the back, I pounded my fist against a window. I rocketed past the bus as it slowed to a stop, turned, then walked up the steps.

The driver, with a big smile and an explosion of pink hair, burst into laughter.  “You was faster than the bus!  Oh my gawd, I can’t believe that!  You was flyin’!”  The passengers joined in, laughing, commenting, “You get on this bus, you just gunna be late!  Might as well run the rest of the way!”  I was laughing, “I caught ya!”

I sat down near the back, and made tiny talk (it’s even smaller than small talk) with the people on the bus.  We didn’t get into politics or energy policies.  It was mostly about me being fast.  The bus driver kept laughing to herself, which made me laugh back.

When we got to 9th Street, the bus was mostly empty.  I walked up to the front for my stop.  “You made my morning, my whole day, that was amazing!  All of the passengers loved you, they was all talking about it the whole time.”  On my way out I joked, “You wanna race?”  She said, “You’d probably win.”  I waved goodbye and have a nice day.  She stuck her head out the side window, “I love you, that was so great!”

Besides sweating this early in the morning in work clothes, it’s not a bad way to start the day.

Another animation showing exterior details on this new campus building.